


Six Feet Higher

by violent_ends



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Big Brother Lucifer, F/M, Gen, Halloween, Halloween Challenge, Light Angst, Lucifer as Angel of Death, Post-Season/Series 04, Protective Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 01:16:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21153179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violent_ends/pseuds/violent_ends
Summary: When Azrael gets “injured on the job", she asks Lucifer to collect souls in her place for a day while she stays in Hell to recover.As he flies around the globe following the call of Death, Lucifer can’t help but pay a visit to his beloved Detective and say hi.





	Six Feet Higher

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Filii Hircus Dem Bones challenge, prompt words: coffin/ghosts

_Lu? Lu, please, I need your help._

It’s a connection long forgotten, the one that makes him able to hear his siblings if they wish him to, because none of them does anymore; but it’s there, it’s always going to be there, and Lucifer stirs on his hellish throne at the pull of it, echoing inside his own skull.

_Azrael._

His sister sounds in pain, and he panics, heartbeat picking up in his chest.

_Rae, where are you?_

_H-here. Close._

He stands up immediately at the words, unfurls his wings behind his suit and takes flight from the stone pillar that towers over his kingdom. The maze of cells spreads outward unevenly, leaving clear, empty spaces here and there, waiting to be filled with new souls. In one of them lies a heap of greyish feathers, one spread to the side and the other curled over the body they are attached to, shielding it from the ashes and from any potential harm.

“Sister!” he calls as soon as he lands, his wing drooping low to gently pry Azrael’s away from her body (a wing-on-wing contact he hasn’t experienced in a lifetime, but still familiar, too familiar). “What’s wrong? What happened?”

His sister’s breathing is quickened and frantic, as if her heart is about to burst out of her chest, one small hand pressed against the middle of it to try and relieve the pressure. Lucifer kneels down and helps her sit up, holding her head gently, his wings tucked behind him to make space for hers.

“Had a… stupid… accident" she pants, chest heaving between words. “With a… freaking… defibrillator.”

_Oh, those can be a real pain in the butt_, he thinks to himself, remembering the burning sensation. But why would Azrael subject herself to that? And why would she even feel anything?

“I don’t understand” he blinks in confusion. “How…?”

“False… alarm" she explains, then tries to take a deep breath and slowly forms a longer sentence. “I thought he was dead, I mean he _was_ dead, but I guess I should have waited. They… brought him back while… his soul was in my arms and… I felt the shocks until I had to let him go.”

“But Rae, it’s a device created by humans. How can it hurt you?”

Azrael looks at him with the most ancient of her stares, almost patronizingly.

“Because I'm vulnerable, when I take them. Just for a moment, I'm like them, Lu.”

He instinctively clutches her hand over her chest, moved by solidarity at the thought. He knows what that’s like, having a weak spot. It should comfort him to know he’s not the only one, now, but it doesn’t. And he realizes there are so many things he doesn’t know about what she does, what she is.

“What do you need?” he asks her, relieved by the way her heartbeat seems to be slowly going back to normal in the meantime.

“Can you… take my… place? Just- just for a day, maybe. While I… rest.”

Lucifer tilts his head to the side, surprised.

“You'd trust me with this?” he says, hoping it won’t sound like a bitter accusation, but maybe deep down it is. Azrael’s face scrunches up, hurt by his doubt, making him aware of his failure in hiding it.

“I wouldn’t trust anyone else with this” she whispers. “None of them would be gentle like you. None of them understands humans like you.”

Lucifer can sense that she wants to say something else, but hesitates. At least it gives her the time to get better, and her sentences are now longer and less pained.

“Besides, our siblings… they don’t accept… failure. But you- you know what it’s like to make a mistake.”

He scoffs, his defensiveness kicking in.

“Are you calling me a loser?” he bristles.

“I'm calling you a survivor" his sister counters immediately, barely giving him the time to get offended. “So, help me survive this. _Please_.”

“Okay, okay" he concedes. “But I need someone to take _my_ place. Let me call Amenadiel and see if-"

He tries to disentangle himself from her to join his hands in prayer, but Azrael keeps him close, a plea in her eyes.

“I don’t want him to know. Can’t this stay between us? Just… put me on the throne, no one will notice the difference from down here.”

Oh, that’s right, Azrael knows the Amenadiel from _before_. The stern one, the teacher, the warrior, the unforgiving firstborn. With how busy she is, she probably didn’t even meet him when he went back to Heaven with Charlotte. When they were still a family, Lucifer was the one who helped her cover her tracks when she pulled a prank, and he was also the one who defended her when she got caught and threatened with a punishment that was too harsh. Often, he even accepted it in her place.

Still, even with Amenadiel out of the equation, he has reservations.

“I can’t leave you here like this" he reasons. “The demons…”

“Pff, I'd send them tumbling with a flap of my wings, big bro, and you know it. Even in my current state. Stop underestimating me, I’m not a fledgling anymore.”

She always will be to him, but he doesn’t tell her that; she wouldn’t like it. He sighs in defeat, terrified by how thrilled he already feels at the prospect of visiting Earth for a day. Of visiting… but no, he shouldn’t. It would be pointless. It would be useless. It would be torture.

“Tell me what to do" he says.

*

He leaves Azrael on the throne of Hell and flies up until he breaches past the cloudy sky of the Underworld, slightly overwhelmed by the pile of information his sister dumped on him.

_“Take one of my feathers and keep it on you, it will make you invisible to the living.”_

_“This pendant will tell you where to go next. Store every new soul in it, and give it back to me in the end so I can sort them out.”_

_“Really, Rae? A coffin? A bit too on the nose, don’t you think? You’re lucky I like you, ‘cause it’s going to ruin my whole ensemble.”_

_“I could have it in any shape I wanted and I was in a bad mood when Dad gave me the job. Plus, it’s fitting.”_

The small silver coffin hangs from his neck and bounces between his skin and the fabric of his shirt as he flies to the first destination: he doesn’t know how he knows it, but he does, wings pulled in the right direction without him having to think about it. It’s hard in the beginning, almost uncomfortable, especially when the family of the recently deceased is already around the body when the soul crosses the threshold. The living wail and cry and Lucifer walks among them with guilt, feeling like he’s intruding, but such is the task of Death when it’s time.

It’s easier when the cause is a violent one, when there isn’t the time for loved ones to gather round and mourn, but sadder, and more lonely. The good thing is that he doesn’t have to deal with panicking humans wondering what on Earth is going on: they’ll only wake at the gates of Heaven or Hell, and only Azrael can come and go as she pleases, like all angels except for the one who was cast out.

After a while, Lucifer manages to see it as a task and leave emotion out of it. He has to hold the souls only for a moment before they disappear, making the pendant heavier or lighter, depending on where they’re bound to go. The lightness of Heaven and the weight of Hell battle against each other throughout the day, and when the damned start to pile up, breaking the balance, his wings have to put more effort than usual into supporting him. It’s extremely tiring, and his affection for Azrael only grows because of it: he might have been tasked with being the keeper of the worst of the worst, but he can’t imagine doing this every day for _eternity_.

He flies from one continent to another, and gives up on the possibility of seeing the Detective – maybe it’s better this way, he tries to tell himself. And then… then, the pendant guides him to L.A. But no, not just L.A. A crime scene. Of a murder _she_ is investigating.

Death is a busy bee, and of course, he’s falling behind: now he finds the souls hovering above their bodies in waiting, instead of witnessing the moment of their passing, so by the time he arrives to collect this one, the LAPD is already all over the place. Lucifer walks past unis he shared donuts with, past Dan taking statements outside the victim’s house, past Ella sorting out samples in a corner, Azrael’s feather tucked in the inside pocket of his jacket.

Then, he sees her. She’s giving instructions to a few subordinates, hair tied in a low bun, one of her most serious-Detective looks. She has her back to him, and Lucifer doesn’t know why but he prefers it this way when he kneels next to the stabbed man’s body and picks up his soul, even though Chloe wouldn’t be able to see him doing it anyway. He’s so far behind that the small coffin shakes immediately after, urging him to take flight, but he can’t, he _can’t_, and it’s selfish but he hopes she’ll forgive him for it.

He walks out of the house and looks around until he sees her parked car. Only now he realizes there are Halloween decorations on doors and gates along the road: bats and ghosts, skeletons and pumpkins, mummies and spiders. After making sure no one is looking, he opens the locked car door with ease and sits on the passenger seat before closing it back, waiting, hoping Chloe will come here alone.

She does. She closes the door behind her and reaches forward to put the key in the ignition, but Lucifer doesn’t give her the time.

“Chloe" he calls her, fully anticipating the way she jumps on the seat, but there are too many people around for him to appear out of thin air without raising questions. Chloe looks around, panicking but hopeful, a hope that is achingly bittersweet.

“Lucifer?” she whispers hesitantly, not knowing on what to focus her gaze.

“I promise I'll explain, but you need to drive to an isolated place first" he tells her, the longer sentence making her aware of where his voice is coming from. She stares in his direction, her mouth open in shock, then nods to herself and shakily starts the car.

Lucifer doesn’t want to freak her out more than necessary, so he stays quiet during the ride. Eventually, Chloe pulls into an abandoned parking lot and stops in the farthest corner from the road.

“Lucifer? Are you really here?” she asks as she turns toward him again, visibly scared at the possibility of having fallen prey to a trick of her imagination, and Lucifer can’t let her wonder one moment longer.

He takes Azrael’s feather out of his jacket and places it on the dashboard. The moment he lets it go, both him and the feather become visible, welcomed into the mortal world by Chloe’s sudden gasp.

“Hello, Detective" he says with a smile, trying not to laugh at the incredulous expression on her face. Chloe has one hand over her mouth, but she recovers quickly, throwing her arms around him to pull him close and into her space. Lucifer hugs her just as tightly, the call of Death forgotten and unanswered, nothing on his mind besides her smell and her touch, the feeling of her hands in his hair and her breath against his neck.

“You’re here" she whispers, holding him with a desperation he loves and hates at the same time. “You’re back.”

His heart clenching painfully in his chest, Lucifer finds the strength to pull back and explain before she gets her hopes up.

“I can’t stay for long" he tells her, clutching her hands in his own. “I'm just covering for my sister, she had an accident on the job.”

At her puzzled expression, he realizes he has to give her something more.

“Her name is Azrael. She’s the angel of Death. She’s not well and I took her place for the day.”

Chloe’s eyes widen almost comically.

“You… you’re going around the world killing people?”

“Of course not, dear, you humans are pretty good at that without any help" he chuckles, lowering their joined hands. “I'm just, uh… collecting ghost packages, so to speak. Like an angelic FedEx courier, if you will.”

She laughs, and he laughs along at the sight and the sound, comforted by the lightheartedness he can still fill her with.

“I see" Chloe says eventually, and as the laughter dies down, he can see that only now she’s acknowledging the fact that he’s about to leave again. “So… how long before…?”

“A few minutes” he confesses apologetically. “Death doesn’t wait for anyone, as you can imagine, and souls are piling up. Azrael will kick me in my pretty average nuts if I do a lousy job.”

He thinks the comment might amuse her, but the Detective seems to be focused on something else.

“Why can’t you take her place permanently?” she asks with a frown. “At least you'd be here. On Earth.”

“Believe me, you would barely see me anyway” Lucifer replies with a sad smile. “Besides, she would have to defy the purpose Father gave her, and I don’t want her to be the subject of His wrath as I was. I can’t let that happen to her. She picked me specifically because I wouldn’t judge her: I don’t know if you've heard, but I’m the black sheep of the family.”

He wiggles his eyebrows, and this time, she chuckles, successfully distracted from the way he had to turn down her idea.

“I think I've read that in a book or two" she comments with a playful smile, which, oddly enough, slowly shifts into something he can only define as motherly.

“What?” Lucifer inquires, intrigued.

“I never pictured you as the protective big brother. It suits you.”

“Everything suits me, Detective" he tells her with a cheeky grin, arching an eyebrow. She laughs again, and one of her hands leaves his to cup his cheek, startling him for a moment before he relaxes into the touch.

“That’s true" Chloe says, her eyes alight with affection and love, if he can dare to still define it as such. He doesn’t know how long it’s been, and it can’t be too long because she doesn’t look older, but still, it could have been six months or a year or more. There could be… someone.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks her then, only now aware of how close they have been this whole time – why are they wasting it with _words_, if there is a chance Chloe might say yes to this?

The Detective shakes her head though, and his heart falls. But then she rolls her eyes, and he realizes she’s amused by the question.

“Oh, Lucifer" she sighs before pulling him closer, pressing her lips to his as her thumb strokes his cheek tenderly, almost comfortingly. Lucifer exhales into it, his hands shooting up to cup her cheeks in turn: soon they’re clutching at each other, scrambling to get closer until they’re basically kneeling on their respective seats, their tongues caressing each other with mounting desperation, their hands clenching in each other’s hair.

He wants more, so much more than yet another stolen kiss, but he won’t start something he can’t finish, so when Chloe’s fingers suddenly pop open the first two buttons of his shirt, he blocks her movements with a hand around her wrist. She freezes and pulls back to look at him, breathless.

“I'm sorry" he whispers against her deliciously kiss-swollen lips, stroking her pulse point with his thumb to soothe the sting. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come, I apologize, it’s just-"

“No, no, no" she cuts him off, kissing him quickly for emphasis. “Don’t say that, I… _I'm_ sorry. You said ‘a few minutes’ but I still got carried away. I just… I miss you.”

That bittersweet ache is back, and he suddenly feels unable to speak. He releases her wrist and Chloe lets her fingers trail down his neck, between his collarbones, only now seeing the silver coffin glowing and buzzing where it has been covered by his shirt until now. Her hand hovers above it but doesn’t touch it, her expression shifting from awe to realization, although she can’t fully know the inner workings of his temporary task.

Without the distraction of her words and kisses, in this sudden silence, Lucifer starts to struggle against the increasingly insistent pull of Death, feeling his wings squirm under his skin. He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, and Chloe notices.

“It’s okay" she tells him, and it’s not, but it’s a lie he will pretend to believe. “I understand.”

“Will you be happy?” he feels the need to ask her, brushing her hair back where he made a mess of it, the carefully combed strands now sticking up in all directions. Chloe mirrors his movement, smoothing out rebel locks hanging over his forehead.

“I'll try my best" she answers. “For you.”

“Good" he nods, before leaning closer to kiss her again. This time she doesn’t try to turn it into something more, until their lips reluctantly part. They join their foreheads together, as they did in another lifetime in front of a university lab when he asked _This is real, isn’t it?_

And it is, maybe even too much, real in the best and the worst way.

“Will I ever see you again?” Chloe whispers with her eyes closed, their noses brushing, the strangled pain of longing in her voice.

“I don’t know" he admits, his face scrunching up when he sees a tear roll down her cheek. “Darling, please, don’t cry.”

Chloe brushes the tear away, her jaw clenching until she seems to gain more control of her emotions.

“Go now" she urges, with a smile that doesn’t truly reach her eyes once she opens them. Lucifer pulls back and reaches forward over the dashboard, his fingers inches from Azrael’s feather and the invisibility it will grant him.

“Have a great Halloween, my love. Tell the urchin not to be scared of ghosts: I'll be the one taking care of those tonight.”


End file.
